Intersections
by AnotherPerson5
Summary: Implied John Watson/Asexual Sherlock. Just a dialogue heavy exchange between a pair of put upon crime solvers.
1. Chapter 1

"All the time you need."

"Actually it'll only take a minute."

Sherlock nods and takes out his mobile, glancing up when he realizes the two men are staring at him.

"I need you to leave," the taller man, Ned, says hands deep in his pockets and looking rather embarrassed.

"What for?"

"I don't like to have people in the room, it messes with my train of my thought."

Emerson rolls his eyes, wondering how long it'll take Ned to come up with a better excuse than that, but is surprised when the consulting detective tucks his phone away, a curiously understanding smile on his face when he replies with an "of course" and steps outside.

Sixty-five seconds later they emerge from the room with not only the name of the killer but where he could be found and the revisions to his will which he'd saved in code as a memo on his phone.

"You got all that in a minute from a naked corpse?"

Ned rubs the back of his neck, pointedly ignoring Emerson, "The dead have a way of, uh, speaking if you know how to pay attention."

"Oh," John looks at his phone, "Exclamation points, better get back."

Chuck is already standing though, having just put away her own phone. There's a grin on her face that's positively gleeful as they leave the cafeteria and John listens in amazement as she goes on about how she glad she is that interesting murders are universal. She reminds him of Sherlock actually, except in bright colors and only slightly more giggling.

"And then it turned out to be the monkey trainer not the monkey itself, but still any reason to gate crash a circus right?"

"Oh, absolutely," he agrees fervently.

"I bet your boyfriend loves cases like those."

John laughs, "No, no."

"Really? When Ned was explaining the Taffeta case he seemed to-"

"No, I meant the boyfriend part. Very close friend that happens to be male and whom I share a life with, but definitely not my boyfriend."

"Oh," once again he's reminded of Sherlock as she flashes a grin that seems to convey that there's a joke only the two of them are in on as she lowers her voice, "I have a very close friend that also happens to be male and whom I share a life with too."

"Haha, yeah, I don't really think we're talking about the same kind of relationship."

"You guys run around solving mysteries together."

"Yes, if you want to be obvious."

"He's awkward around everyone else, but when you're alone together he does little things that make you wonder if he's the iceman he wishes he was but obviously isn't."

"I wouldn't say 'iceman'."

"Affectionate in small ways, but anything physical is totally out of the question."

"Which he thinks I _need_ just because I happen to have a reputation. It's not all about that."

"It's knowing how happy you could make him, but there's always one thing-"

"-after the bloody other and god forbid he take my advice."

"Never mind how many times I've saved him when he's too stubborn to ask for help-"

"No he's Sherlock Holmes-"

"Ned the piemaker, a special little snowflake-"

"-with his one of a kind gift-"

"-and it's not like I don't appreciate it when he tries to protect me, I do, but-"

"I fought in a war, I don't need to be coddled."

"I took sharp shooting lessons for thirteen years, but no 'take the next cab and go home, Chuck, I have to think'."

John snorts, "Which means go off on his own and end up getting himself into some sort of bind."

"And after all that, what do I get to wake up to?"

"Molded fruit in the fridge."

"A dead body on the floor."

"God forbid he take it back when he's done with it."

"I know!"

They stop, looking at each other with newfound camaraderie as well as realizing they've made it out to the parking lot where their counterparts are waiting for them. The two taller men smile at their approach.

"Glad you could join us at last John."

"Chuck, there you are."

"Sod off," the chorus, brushing past the confused pair arm in arm and agreeing that a drink sounds amazing.

Sherlock frowns, "Fancy a pint, Ned?"

"Suddenly yes, thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: Someone on ao3 left me a prompt and so here's Ned & Sherlock's side of the story ^_^**

* * *

They were half a pint in when Ned finally blurted, "Chuck thinks I don't get out enough."

"Mm, John's the same way."

"I do though, I mean I solve crimes and there are people-work people."

"No matter what John says Molly and I enjoy each other's company in a strictly platonic sense."

"Olive and I are the same way. Too many people become distractions."

"And of course they all want to talk about the same thing."

"'Why aren't you two dating?'"

"'You already live together.'"

" 'Why is there a corpse on the table?'"

"John's been shot you know."

"Chuck was strangled."

"Every time I've poisoned him it's ended up saving his life."

"I locked Chuck in a cellar so she wouldn't follow me to the house of a serial killer."

"No thank you?" Ned shook his head. "That there? Typical."

"It's not that I don't appreciate her help."

"No, John's frequently less stupid than the yard and occasionally right."

"We're just more right."

"Precisely, but tread a little graveyard dirt into the house-"

"Disappear for a few days."

"-and suddenly we're the Neanderthals of social etiquette."

"It's a broken system."

Across the bar John was telling some bizarre story to Chuck using a straw, lighter and small pile of limes.

"They seem to be getting on."

Ned glanced at Sherlock wearing an expression of thoughtfulness, concern and the faintest whiff of boredom.

"There's a disturbing lack of personal space between them," Ned pointed out with the same expression.

"Jealous?"

"God no." He stuttered as he realized what he said. "Not that I have any problem with being close to Chuck, but out of all the things that define our relationship I'd consider touching to be the least important. You know every year people die because they're too busy looking into the eyes of their significant other to pay attention to what they're doing?"

"Really?"

"Giddy Gertrude and Liam Erickson walked off the edge of a cliff while giving each other eskimo kisses."

"What were the bodies like?"

"Well they gave a new meaning to the term lip locked."

Sherlock laughed, "Brilliant."

"The family thought they were pushed, we had to separate them before they showed up to get an id."

"How did you break the news?"

"I had Chuck do it, she says I refer to the dead in present tense and give false hope, but it's only because technically they're still helping us…passively."

"John was furious when I told a mother that her son wasn't a reformed alcoholic because his organs were practically drenched in bourbon."

"Why?"

"Why did I tell her?"

"No, why was he angry you told her?"

"I've no idea! When he talks for long periods I find it best to tune him out."

"Doesn't the fact that you seem to be listening encourage him to talk more?" Sherlock set down his glass, eyebrows shooting up with the realization.

"My god, you're right."

"Whenever Chuck tries to define our relationship I pretend there's a pie emergency."

"A pie emergency."

"My pies have been used to smuggle out drugs and once a thumb, it's a valid excuse in my line of work."

"A _human_ thumb?"

Which was when they had to pause so Ned could take out his phone and flip through pictures of crime scenes which only led to Sherlock insisting he'd seen more interesting ones and taking out his phone. Within minutes Ned had his laptop out and was accessing Emerson's private files while Sherlock was saying goodbye to Molly who had jetted over to bring him folders from Bart's and soon they were locked in a morbid, drinking game with rules only they understood.

"What about this one? Boots and the Loot."

"Wife did it."

"Drink," they chorused and, after calculating the number of shots consumed versus the amount of time before John and Chuck were drunk enough to seek them out, happily continued the game, holding up a crime scene photo between them when their counterparts ditched their drinks early to check on them.

"Those wouldn't be confidential files you two are giggling over like old school chums?"

Sherlock slammed the laptop shut and Ned brushed the hospital files off the table, both of them keeping a straight face as the computer bleeped out an anti-hacker warning and papers floated around their shoes.

"Ned was telling me about his, er, childhood."

Chuck rolled her eyes while John turned his gaze on Ned. "And Sherlock was talking about how much respect he has for Scotland's yard, it's a very well kept, um, yard. Fountains and," he glanced at Sherlock who was furiously shaking his head, "topiaries?"

John looked at Chuck. "Let's not ever leave them alone together again, yes?"

They shook on it.


End file.
